


our bodies could fall off the end of the world

by purplelaterade



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 16:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3073775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplelaterade/pseuds/purplelaterade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"-and we could go to any New Year’s Eve that has ever been or ever will be, you know. New Year’s Eve in 2939 on the Congolese Plutonian base, now that was a party-"</p>
            </blockquote>





	our bodies could fall off the end of the world

**Author's Note:**

> i don’t really know what this is - a kind of interlude in a longer piece that i’m writing (which was actually just decided as i was writing this so we’ll see if that actually happens but i guess now it will). forgive me, i’ve been drinking and i knocked this out in like forty-five minutes so it’s just a bit of mindless New Year’s fluff. set not long after Last Christmas, so i guess minor spoilers for that (or major if you really don’t know anything that happened, but that’s your own fault at this point i mean it’s been a week).

“Clara,” the Doctor hisses, rubbing his hands together in the freezing night air as the crowds crush in around them.

“Shh,” she hisses back, drawing her parka closer around her shoulders.

“Clara, there are too many people here, this is ridiculous-”

“ _Shh_ ,” she shushes him again, but he keeps going.

“-and I have a time machine, linear time is functionally meaningless, it’s both always New Year’s Eve and never New Year’s Eve at the same time-”

She grabs onto one of his arms and wraps herself around it, laughing. “Quiet.”

“-and we could go to any New Year’s Eve that has ever been or ever will be, you know. New Year’s Eve in 2939 on the Congolese Plutonian base, now _that_ was a party. You know I’ve been three times? All with different faces, of course, so I don’t recognize me. We could go.”

Clara doesn’t respond, choosing instead to rest her head against his arm; she feels him tense momentarily, then take a deep breath and relax. Around them, the countdown starts.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven-”

She looks up at the Doctor, who is scanning the crowd, his face a cross between bewilderment and that slightly grumpy expression she’s pretty sure is permanently etched into his face. Well, this face.

“-six, five, four, three-”

He glances down, noticing that’s she’s looking at him rather than out into the night sky, where the fireworks are about to start. “What?” he asks, frowning slightly. She feels the corners of her mouth twitch up.

“-two, one – Happy New Year!”

She misses the first of the fireworks because she’s too busy grabbing a fistful of the Doctor’s hoodie and pulling him down to her level, pressing her lips hard to his. To his credit, he only flails for a moment before settling, his hands at her waist. When she pulls away, she can see in the light of the fireworks that he’s flushing straight to the roots of his hair. Considering what they’ve just come from doing, it’s so endearing and _innocent_ that she laughs.

“What’s the matter, Doctor? Never been kissed on New Years before?”

He straightens haughtily, his hands still on her hips – she can’t quite tell if he’s keeping them there on purpose or if he just forgot to move them. She’s not particularly fussed so long as he leaves them there, fingers digging gently into her hipbones. “Clara, I am two thousand years old, I have definitely been… _kissed_ … on New Years before. As a matter of fact, there was this one time in the year 2000 – I was in San Francisco, and there was this surgeon who killed me-”

With a shake of her head, Clara reaches up and intertwines her fingers with his, pulling him back through the crowd, who are all intently watching the colors in the sky.

“I thought you wanted to watch the fireworks?” He shouts the question over the bangs and booms around them, and she stops, keeping a hold on her hand as she turns to face him. The light from the fireworks cast colors and shadows across his hair and she resists the urge to ruffle it. She shakes her head.

“I just wanted to be here when they began.”

He frowns at her again, like he’s trying to figure her out, but she just presses one more kiss to the corner of his mouth before starting off in the direction of the TARDIS again.

They find it tucked away in the alley where they parked it, and Clara grabs his other hand before they go in, forcing him to face her.

“Happy New Year, Doctor,” she says emphatically, and it feels strange to be saying those words when just a few hours she was saying Merry Christmas, but it’s important, somehow-

“Happy New Year, Clara Oswald,” he echoes, his mouth tugging up into a smile, and she hears him in her head – _I never get second chances_ – as she pushes the door open and yanks him through, back down the corridors.


End file.
